


Conversations

by theLiterator



Category: Batman - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Assassins, F/F, Femslash, Gen, Kidnapping, Other, Secret Identity Fail, Self-Determination, team fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha notices something off about Damian, and when Talia decides to check in on her son, she goes with them.</p><p>Talia and Natasha lie to each other beautifully and Natasha and Damian fail to lie to each other even more beautifully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely AU for Batman the way most fic is, mostly MCU for Avengers except Bucky's around and yet no one knows about the Black Widow (she likes it that way.)

Stark's PA was cool and sleek like a perfectly polished blade, and Damian sat down opposite of her and pulled out his DS. He knew, thanks to his supposed _siblings_ interference and insistence on teaching him children's activities, that the moment he as Damian Wayne pulled out the device, he became completely invisible. He slipped in the headphones, next, and settled in to play the simple game with every appearance of complete engrossment.

"That's clever," the woman said after a moment. "Do your people always use children for reconnaisance?"

"My people?" he asked her blandly. "You mean Father?" he inclined his head towards the door where the meeting was taking place.

"Your father," she said. Her eyes went unfocused for a half a second, and then, she looked at him again, and pasted a bright smile on that reached her eyes and transformed her into an ordinary woman for a second. "Damian! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first."

Damian inclined his head, popped his headphones back in, and went back to his game, and to watching her.

Stark emerged from his secret conference with Damian's father, and offered the woman a hand up, and an embrace that ended with a brush of his lips to her cheek. She allowed him to dictate the contact, but the very fact of that allowance was obvious in the tensed muscles of her bare calves, the way her hands rested lightly over two excellent nerve clusters.

She was wholly dangerous.

"Hey there sport!" Brucie Wayne called out cheerfully as he came to ruffle Damian's hair. Damian stood patiently and endured the touch, smoothing his hair calmly once he was certain his father was through. "I can't _believe_ you stayed out here this whole time. _I_ was bored and I had _work_."

Damian held out his Nintendo, and his father took it with an expression that Damian couldn't quite read. It unsettled him, but his father _was_ Batman, so it would of course make sense that his expression might sometimes prove opaque. A quick glance at the PA showed that she was far more interested in his father than in her employer. He wondered if Stark realized the woman was a plant.

"Yeah? Is Pokemon Mystery Dungeon any good? Maybe I'll pick it up myself, huh, sport?"

Damian truly hated his father's public charade.

"It is... enjoyable. There are sequels," he added. That had become an important component of his choices in video games, of late. He found that if he was in the midst of a series of games, it was easier to avoid suggestions.

His father's expression shifted to his own face for a moment, and it had a component of disappointment and frustration that he often showed to Damian, and he had to force hs breathing to remain regular, impassive.

Just because he was aware of his unworthiness in his father's eyes did not mean that the world needed to know of it, or of his awareness.

"So, lunch?"

"Only if your delectable assistant joins us, tiger," Brucie said. His gaze and interest were fully locked on Damian, however.

"And I'll only come if your son joins us. He's quite the prodigy, I hear," the woman said in cool tones. Bruce looked sharply at her, and Damian felt his posture slacken without the weight of that gaze against his skin.

"Yes," Bruce said, clipped and equally cool. "Quite."

Damian stared at the woman. "But father," he began, then tried to put a whine into his voice, "I'm not hungry."

It was not his most convincing bit of acting ever, as the woman raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, and even Stark had an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Aww, kids, right?" Bruce asked, and his hand clapped down on Damian's shoulder, and Damian ducked his head so that none of them could see his out-of-character fury.

The boy was silent at lunch. Utterly silent; not the silence of children. He was still, except for the approriate motions of eating, and he never sighed or shifted or groaned or cried, and Natasha was... wary. She knew, better than many, what one could train a child into, and, more importantly, what a well-trained child looked like.

Bruce Wayne had noticed her interest in his child, she thought, because he wasn't actually a terrible father; he had the experience for that, at least. He had _dismissed_ her interest in his child, though, because she was a woman and women weren't threats to him, but objects. (It was, she felt, a fair assessment of a man who'd had a biological child dumped on his doorstep. And he was friends with Stark-- had been friends with Stark before Stark had learned the costs of irresponsibility.)

"You're his biological child, correct?" Natasha finally asked, and Tony and Bruce's conversation ground to an echoing halt.

"Yes," the boy said stiffly. "I am his _only_ biological child." His stare was defiant.

"And I suppose you tested that," Natasha mused. _Was_ the boy a plant? Who would hate _Bruce Wayne_ enough to raise a child for ten years with the sole goal of planting him with the man.

"I did," Bruce said. "I would likely have taken the boy in regardless, but definitive paternity eases some of the bureaucracy involved. Hah! Red tape!"

Natasha wondered what the boy would do if she drew a weapon on him. Would he draw in response? Would he pretend fear?

She was saved that decision by the wall exploding."Fuck!" Tony snapped. "And I'm in fucking Gotham, of fucking course." He didn't have armor. No one from SHIELD or the Avengers entered Gotham uninvited-- Batman was rather... prejudiced in his expulsions.

Natasha decided to end radio silence, and clicked her earpiece. "Can I get a sitrep out here?" she demanded, "We've got hostiles."

"We see that, Widow," Hill said. "Standby."

"Hydra?" she asked. "Or is it.."

"It is the League," Damian said from her left. Tony and Bruce were huddled behind a table. "And they are not here for Stark. Take him and go."

She looked down at the boy. "The League," she said flatly, disbelievingly.

The boy scoffed. "The League of Assassins. Leave, now."

Before Natasha could begin to list the reasons why that was a terrible plan, the boy broke cover.

Bruce... transformed, was the only word. Even once the explosion had rocked the room, he had been terrified and punchy with it, giggling about ransoms and terrorism to Tony and elbowing him like traumatic experiences were hilarious and adventurous. But then Damian stood up, and Bruce went silent. Not with terror, though there was fear written elegantly in every line of his body. No, he was _analyzing._ Calculating the situation and deciding on a course of action, which he implemented immediately."Damian, no!" He said. It was more order than plea, and it made the boy pause. Made the boy look back at them. Made the boy _smile_.

"Shit," Tony said. "He's _ten_. Why the fuck is your ten year old going up to the terrorists? He's going to die."

Natasha thought, briefly, quietly, horribly, that if the boy had somehow crossed the League, he was already dead.

Natasha was no longer a mindless weapon, killing whatever her master willed, and so she took out her earpiece and handed it to Tony and stood up in her turn.

"Hello," she said, smiling flirtatiously at the enemy, ducking her head a little to gaze out from under her lashes.

The men parted, and a woman strode in with the bearing of a killer, the bearing of an Empress.

Well, Natasha thought.

"Talia al Ghul," she said, bowing a little. Talia gave her a brief once over, then a more thorough assessment.

"One of those Black Widows?" she asked. "And how has my son come by _you_ as an ally, then?"

Natasha shrugged. "Money," she lied. "Turns out, the Waynes have a lot. Who knew?"

Talia looked perfectly, prettily upset by that news. "But, my darling, you are so much _more_ than simple bodyguard work." She strode forward and rested her hands on Natasha's shoulders, ignoring Damian and her ninja and the cowering, weeping restaurant patrons. "Come with me; bring the boy. I can offer you _so much more_ than this." Talia brushed a kiss to Natasha's lips, and Natasha leaned into it, seducing, smiling, tasting.

"You won't hurt the civilians?" Natasha asked, drawing away, licking her lips.

Talia smiled. "For you I will not."

"You should not have interfered," Damian told her in perfect Russian as soon as the doors closed on them.

"You should not have surrendered so easily," she replied in the exact same tones, but in English. He pursed his lips.

"You ran," she said.

"I did not," Damian replied. "I was sent away, and then I... avoided retrieval."

Natasha smiled at him, her most genuine smile, but he did not respond.

"I ran away once too," she said. "I have nightmares about retrieval sometimes."

More, now that she knew about... everything. About the Winter Soldier's transfer to SHIELD, about how deep her cover went. Also, with Russia rattling its saber at the US over petty things, she feared more than mere retrieval.

His face remained completely impassive. "Fear is a weakness," he said calmly.

"I disagree," she said softly. "It is a strength; it tells you when there is danger. It helps you assess your environment."

She had never learned to believe that, but perhaps he was young enough, yet, that he would. He was the picture of impassivity.

"Do not worry," he said as the seconds stretched into minutes. "Batman will save us."

If he were any other boy, she would have read that as hope, but she thought instead there was only resignation.

"Not if we save ourselves first," she reassured him, and offered him her smile again.

 

***

Tony Stark, had, at one point, adored Bruce Wayne. Now, he was pretty much ready to kill the man.

He’d let Tony be the one to talk to the local police, and he’d gone off into the corner with one of the men who’d come to investigate and they’d had a bit of a cigar together, and Tony was stuck repeating what he’d seen over and over while trying to feign panic for Natasha. They whole thing was ridiculous, and he divested himself of their interference as soon as possible.

“Lets go to your penthouse,” Tony suggested. “My people are going to want an HQ, and I happen to know that Wayne tech is almost as reliable and fantastic as Stark.”

“Your people?” The plainclothes cop… detective maybe? said with no small amount of skepticism.

“Yes. My people. I’m Iron Man, remember? And my PA is _my_ PA. SHIELD and the Avengers will all be here shortly to get this taken care of.”

The cop snorted. “That gonna be before or after they get clearance from Batman to invade? Because Gotham doesn’t like superheroes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony gaped at the man. “The ten-year-old heir to the Wayne fortune--”

“I have f-three other children,” Bruce interjected smoothly, as if that were the issue at hand, and the damned cop nodded!

“Cass is definitely not going to sit this one out,” he said with a great deal of confidence.”

Bruce made a humming sort of noise of agreement.

“Okay, the one-quarter heir to the world’s largest fortune!”

“Third largest,” Bruce said. “And sole heir to the first. On his mother’s side.” He smirked a little and Tony wanted to beat his head against a wall. Or his _own_ head.

“He’s been kidnapped! Your kid-- your _youngest_ kid-- has been kidnapped by terrorists! Are you telling me that Batman is going to bitch about my bringing in my people to help me find my PA and _your kid_?”

The cop and Bruce both stared at him.

“If you want to drink and find someone to fuck, fine. I get that response. Just give me access to your penthouse so I can have a base of operations. Or, you know what? Nevermind. I’ll just go _buy_ a base of operations.”

“Mr. Stark--” the cop said.

“No, Jim, I’ve got this handled.”

“You’re certain?”

Bruce laughed.

“Come on, tiger, lets get out of here,” Bruce said seductively, right in Tony’s ear. A well-muscled arm settled across Tony’s shoulders, and Tony decidedly did not scream. “Also, in the most technical sense, I don’t think you could call what just happened kidnapping. Your PA went with them voluntarily.”

“And your son?”

Bruce waited until the doors to the car were firmly shut.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t kidnapping because that was his mother.”

Tony stared.

“His mom.”

Bruce nodded.

“Okay. Okay. Wait! I thought that was rule number two! You _taught me_ that was rule number two: don’t tap the crazy. I mean, whoa, hot, especially her and Nat that was basically-- but no. We don’t tap the crazy. And what about rule number one?”

“Condoms fail,” Bruce said solemnly.

“I can’t believe you had sex with a terrorist,” Tony muttered. “Not even a hot terrorist.”

There was the briefest flash of something in Bruce’s eyes, and if Tony hadn’t known the man as well as he did, he would have called it longing. But then, even more unbelievable than Bruce having sex with a terrorist was Bruce falling in love with one-- with anyone.

Bruce’s penthouse was far more top-of-the-line than even Tony was expecting. 

“Huh,” he said.

Bruce started making phone calls, effectively dismissing Tony.

Well then. He would make his _own_ phone calls.

“Making news again, I see,” Clint greeted him.

“Nat went with them.”

Clint hummed. “I’ll make some calls,” he said.

***

Tony Motherfucking Stark.

Bruce hated him; hated everything he represented, and now the man had the audacity to imply that he did not _care_ that his son was with _her_? 

He was in a foul mood, so he called Oracle first. (He would have called her first regardless.)

He pitched his voice low so Stark couldn't hear, and she didn't bother greeting him, just opened up with a spew of information.

"His tracker's been disabled, but they haven't left the city or even changed cars, so I've still got a location. Looks like at least a dozen men with Talia, maybe more, but I'm still working through the out-of-town arrivals for the last few days."

Bruce grunted in lieu of telling her she'd done good work, then interrupted the steady, reassuring stream. "You need to ground Iron Man."

Barbara laughed at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Stark's PA got taken, and he's already got some half-cocked rescue planned for the woman. I'm banking on Damian keeping her safe until he can send her away, though-- can you look into "black widow?""

"The spider?"

"It may be a code name," he said, not in the mood for her teasing.

"Already in the works, B," she said soothingly. "He's going to be fine."

"I have no doubt."

"He's going to come back," Barbara said softly, and Bruce couldn't voice a response to that, because he might and he might not, but none of them really knew what was going on in the boy's head. Every time he thought he'd finally found some small way to be a child, to have fun, he proved that he was only capable of using every tool he'd been afforded as yet another weapon in his already terrifying arsenal.

"But that's _not_ important. You know what's important? The part where you just asked me to _hack_ Tony Stark."

"You're saying you can't do it?" he asked. Tony was flighty and an attention whore as well as a genius. His security couldn't be beyond Oracle's skills; it couldn't.

"I _can_ , maybe. Given the incentive. But what I can't do is keep him from back-hacking me. And... you don't want that. I mean, hell, I don't want it, but you _know_ the most important ID on my list is yours. And _theirs_ which lead to yours. So I'm saying-- give me a reason and I'll try. Tell me you're ready for him to know _everything_ and I'll try."

Bruce froze and looked over at Tony, on his own phone call with his... butler, he supposed. The name Jarvis was nigglingly familiar to him, gave him images of an older man having tea with a younger Alfred.

"I-- you are the _best_ , Barbara, don't tell me you can't do this."

"Bruce, I know... I know this is difficult, not knowing how he's going to choose. But... I'm not the best. I'm pretty damned good, and I run your city because I have the skill. But believe me when I say that if Tony Stark wanted to, he could run this _hemisphere._ There's rumors, you know, that he has a functioning, learning AI? But those rumors are always shut the hell down _by Stark_. He can almost delete things from the internet. That's big, that's scary, that's... _good_. So I'm going to say it again: I _can_ do this. The consequences of doing it are going to suck."

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He's getting out of the car with the woman; they're at the Marriott. He's uninjured, as far as I can tell. I'll tell you when I get a location, okay?"

And then, from his unwanted houseguest, "What do you mean you're having trouble breaking their encryption, Jay? Don't do this to me!"

Which gave him an idea, or _three_.

"Send me the boys," he said.

Barbara sucked in a surprised breath.

"All of them?"

" _Especially_ Jay," he said just so his meaning was clear.

"Jeez, B," she said. "You really don't like this guy, do you?"

"It's _Tony Stark._ "

"They're on their way. I've got BB on the hotel, and BG will join her once she's off of work."

"Keep me posted," he said, clicking the phone off.

***

Damian let his mother's men escort him through the halls of the well-appointed hotel, keeping his shoulders straight and his eyes forward, as if they were his guard, not his mother. It was a posture he had perfected long ago. The woman did not try to take his hand, nor did she foolishly attempt to guard him from their escort, but still, he was wary of her. Why, of all things, would she risk herself to join them? Especially since, while she appeared to be attracted to his mother, his mother had not yet revealed herself when the woman had stood to join him.

His mother was already in the suite they entered, and Damian bowed respectfully towards her, but not _too_ respectfully. It was a careful balance, their interactions, and it would not do to upset it any further than he already had.

"Mother," he said, finally deciding on that one-word greeting.

"Damian, my son," she said, holding out her arms as if for an embrace. He had rarely had occasion to hug her, and every one of those events had been a lesson of some sort. Still... still he moved forward and allowed her to fold him against her torso. "Have you missed me?" she asked.

"More than anything," he whispered truthfully into her chest, still not relaxing. At least his mother valued him above all else, and he _had_ missed her unstinting attention. Though-- having only a piece of the attentions of a dozen individuals made up almost as much.

"So you still hold some affection for your mother?" she asked sweetly.

"Only what any son might," he said, even as he pulled away.

 _Affection is weakness_. He had barely dodged the knife she'd held, and her smile was tight and proud.

He breathed heavily and shoved his hands into his pockets to disguise their trembling.

"How is your father?" she asked.

"Well enough," Damian replied.

"Is he pleased with you? With your training and your skill?"

"Surely," Damian said thickly, neither wanting to lie to his mother, nor to admit the humiliating truth, "your spies have already answered that for you."

Talia pouted beautifully, and Damian remembered, once, before her plans had changed, that she had said that he would one day be trained to seduce as well as she did, that he would send men and women to their knees with a well placed sigh.

That... would never come, now, he realized. He was oddly relieved at the thought.

"I just wanted to hear a report from my son's own lips," she said. "Surely you would not deny me that?"

"No, mother," he said. "Father is quite pleased with me. He endeavors to expand your training to craft the perfect heir."

Talia clapped with every appearance of delight, and Damian allowed his guard to lower.

She turned to the woman. "I did some research, Natalia Alianovna. You are _quite_ something. And now ensconced in his house, guarding his heir. Tell me, have you taught him all you know yet? He is a fast learner. The fastest, in fact."

Natalia murmured a soft negative. "Oh, but come here," Talia said. "Let me see you."

When his mother pulled the woman in for an embrace, no knives were drawn. Damian made a note of the way their body language shifted, and the way their bodies twined together, and he thought-- is this what she would have me learn, today?

***

Talia kissed like a summer rain, seductive and warm and gentle, and so Natasha kissed her, because that was who she was; a mirror for her victim to preen in before she finally struck. Talia pulled back and smiled at her.

“They try to control us, they take our children away, they train us and they hone us, but they are always surprised when we fight back, aren’t they?” Talia said.

Natasha both agreed and disagreed with the woman, and she knew that spark of madness and desperation that glinted in the woman’s eyes as intimately as she knew her own heartbeat, but…

She had not given in to that madness.

She initiated the next kiss, and she could _feel_ the childlike joy Talia took in that, in her own reciprocation, and Natasha would be enjoying this, enjoying the kindred spirit here, that road less travelled, but for the ten year old boy watching dispassionately from the corner he had retreated to.

Natasha drew back slightly. “But Damian--”

“He stays of his own volition; isn’t that right, my son?” Damian whispered an affirmative. “He is _my_ son. He cannot be kept against his will. His training is peerless.”

Natasha ducked her head. “Of course,” she said, and she reached for the fastenings on Talia’s blouse. “Let me see _you_ ,” she added, even though she knew no matter how many layers she stripped from this woman whom she knew only by reputation, she would not see _her_. Still.

Still.

They were both too well trained for this to be enjoyable; there was both too much between them and not enough. Still, Natasha tried, hands and lips and teeth because violence was their mother and she had made them sisters and foes.

Damian never pulled out his video game, never gave them the pretence of solitude, but she’d had younger voyeurs than ten, and Natasha knew she could not trust Talia, but she also knew that Damian Wayne… Damian _al Ghul_ was at least as capable as his mother claimed.

Which begged the question: what was he doing with Bruce Wayne, of all people.

After, they sprawled sated, and Natasha rested her head on Talia’s abdomen, and Talia tangled her fingers in Natasha’s hair, and Natasha did the one thing she’d learned never to do in an interrogation, and she asked.

“You could have any man in the world,” Natasha said. “Choose anyone to father your child, to help craft your heir. Why Wayne?”

“You do not know?” Talia asked, finger tightening against Natasha’s scalp.

“Father guards his secrets more closely than most, Mother,” Damian said. “You know this.”

Talia smoothed Natasha’s hair. Natasha feigned indifference. “Of course, my son. Of course.”

Natasha shifted her head so she could press a soft kiss to Talia’s navel, and Talia hummed a little. “I had expected him to try to fetch you by now, though.”

Damian laughed, and it wasn’t _right_ that such a sound would come from a little boy. Natasha had no experience with children, not really, but she knew about the little boys who wanted hugs and signatures from Captain America and Iron Man, and the little girls who would shyly ask her if she would take a picture with them, and she knew that none of them could laugh like that, sounding betrayed and resigned and disappointed all at once.

“Perhaps he has as much faith as you, Talia, that he could escape any place that tried to hold him?” Natasha said, to smooth the lines in Talia’s face and ease the tension in her belly, and to erase the echo of that laugh.

***

Jason had no idea why he’d been summoned to the Tower, and if it hadn’t been Barbara doing the summoning, he wouldn’t have even considered going. Still, when he walked into the penthouse, he strongly considered walking right the hell back out out again.

“Hey, _dad_ ,” he snarled. “Wanna tell me why I’m here? More importantly, wanna tell me why Mr. Shiny over there is here?”

“Mr. Shiny?” Tim asked. “Really, Jason?”

“I thought… wait. Why are there three of them You have three sons, and one of them is kidnapped, so why are there _three_ sons in your penthouse, Brucie?”

Bruce shrugged. “Sometimes I lose count.”

“Jesus Christ, B,” Jason said, lighting a cigarette and collapsing on the sofa next to Tim. “If I’d known you wanted a distraction, I’d have gone to _his_ Tower and blown something up.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Blow my Tower up.”

“Not the whole Tower,” Jason said. Tim stole his cigarette, and Jason would have protested except the kid only sucked in a drag before handing it back. Didn’t even cough. “I’m impressed, Baby Bird,” he said. “You want your own? Or are you gonna claim your fine and keep stealing mine?”

Tim gave him a cool, penetrating _look_ , and Jason laughed again. “I’d offer you something harder, but I have a strict ‘no dealing to kids’ policy. I’d hate to have to shoot my _own_ kneecaps.”

Stark’s face was a beautiful mask of ‘what the hell’, and Bruce and Dick were making their getaway.

“So, what happened to my favorite younger brother, Timmers?” He asked, keeping the focus on himself with a wave of the cigarette and Tim’s pissed off stare. Stark couldn’t tear his eyes off of Jason.

“He got kidnapped.”

“Yeah, I caught that news report on the way in. I meant… you know. Who. Why. How much is the ransom? I’d hate to lose out on getting that new Ducati just because Brucie Wayne’s assets aren’t _nearly_ as liquid as mine.”

Tim looked like he was preparing a response, but snapped his mouth shut when Stark interjected. “Are you a _drug dealer_?” he demanded, looking deliciously scandalized.

“That’s so… narrow. I run most of the city’s drug trade, I deal in arms, I occasionally take up some wetwork, and I help Batman fight the crazies, which is more or less doing _free_ wetwork, but I mean, Batman calls, who the hell am I to say no? Sometimes I kidnap Red Robin and try to kill him, but that gets boring. Occasionally I put on a tux and rub elbows with the rich and powerful, but trying to keep trade tied up and under control in a city like this is a lot of fucking work.”

“You forgot pimping,” Tim said mildly.

“Right, I run a halfway house for whores, it’s great. They make money, they don’t get beat or raped or murdered, I make money, everyone wins.”

Jason grinned.

Tony Stark stared. “And you call Bruce Wayne ‘dad’ like it’s an insult. You forgot that part.”

Jason shrugged, still grinning. “Legally, he _is_ my dad. But then, legally, _I’m_ dead, so it’s a bit of a wash, really.”

“You’re Jason Todd,” Tony said.

“Hey, he really is a genius, Timmy. Lookit that! Now, does B want me to stay here, or should i go rattle some contacts?”

“Talia has him,” Tim said primly.

“Huh,” Jason replied. “Well, I’ll leave that can of worms to the big man himself. Hope Dickiebird doesn’t regret going with him.”

“It’s _Damian_ ,” Tim said, and, well.

“That it is, Tim,” Jason said, offering his cigarette back. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re more fun to kill.”

Tim gave him a soft, sideways smile. “It does,” he said, and he shifted on the couch so their shoulders were touching, and Jason felt his grin fade a bit, felt it shift into something else. Instead of covering for it, he wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders and pulled him in for what he assumed a brotherly hug might be like. Tim relaxed into the hug, and Jason cupped the back of his head.

“He’ll be back threatening to murder you over breakfast in no time,” Jason swore solemnly. “Nothing holds him for long.”

***

In retrospect, Natasha should have expected Batman to burst in the way he did. It was all overwhelmingly obvious, once she thought about it, but if she had known that the person Talia loved most in the world was the Batman, she probably wouldn’t have allowed herself to be seduced.

Talia grabbed up the bedsheets, Natasha didn’t bother.

“Batman,” Damian said with the exact same inflection and meaning as when he said “Father.”

Natasha nodded respectfully at him.

“Little D,” the other costumed man, the one so hidden by Batman’s shadow that she had barely noticed him, said, launching forward and catching the child up in a clinging hug that made Natasha, for the first time since seeing the boy and what he had been trained to be, relax. Here was someone who could give the child the uncomplicated love of a parent. Here was…

“Nightwing, let go,” the boy demanded, and Nightwing did, though he hovered just on the edge of touching the boy again.

“Hello, I’m Nightwing,” the man said, waving slightly at her.

She nodded in reciprocal greeting. “And I am the Black Widow,” she replied. He was in costume, but then, so was she, after a fashion.

“Dami,” Nightwing said softly, crouching so he was eye-level with the boy. “You know they’re going to fight no matter what, and they’re probably going to… reunite in a very grown up way, no matter what, and then they’re going to fight some more, no matter what, right?”

Damian nodded.

“Okay, good. So we’ll let your parents do their thing, and while they do that, you and me, and this nice woman if she wants to come, can go downstairs and use your money and my name to convince them we need ice cream, and we’ll talk about it.”

Damian nodded again, and he bent to collect Natasha’s shirt. She took it from him solemnly and got dressed.

The hotel staff didn’t even blink at the three of them; they simply took their orders and retreated gracefully.

“You know it’s your choice? Whether you stay here or go back, right?” Nightwing asked.

Damian stared intently at his hands, and then nodded.

“You may also come with us, little Robin,” Natasha said softly, smiling at him. “The Avengers are not the Justice League, nor are they yet the house of the Batman or of al Ghul, but we are an option you may consider, if everything else seems to be too much.

Nightwing gaped at her.

“There are some of us, there, who might know what it’s like, you know,” Natasha added, ignoring him for the moment. “The Winter Soldier. Hawkeye. Myself.”

“You’re an Avenger?” Nightwing asked, frowning. “But there are no women Avengers; BG and Oracle talk about it all the time.”

“My skills are rather more… behind the scenes than others,” Natasha said demurely.

“Huh,” Nightwing said, looking between them.

In Arabic, Natasha said. “I took life the first time at the age of five. I do not remember her name, though I do remember her eyes.”

Damian stared at her, and he nodded.

Natasha smiled.

Eventually, Nightwing cocked his head, listening to his comms, she assumed, and then they were being gently herded out of the hotel and into a driverless car.

“I hope you understand that I will… meet you guys there,” he said, winking at her and disappearing with the tell-tale sound of a line being retraced at a rapid rate.

“I thought the Avengers were not covert.”

“Covert ops require some secrecy to take care of.”

Damian scoffed, but he looked intrigued.

Another few minutes of silence. “Am I not too young?”

Natasha shook her head. “You are physically ten,” she said. “But you and I both know that this is the lie; the ultimate subterfuge.”

Damian settled firmly into his seat then, and he stared at his hands. Natasha didn’t interrupt him.

***

It wasn’t hard to sneak back into his own penthouse and pretend to be drunk and stupid after his confrontation with Talia, but it _was_ hard to calm his inner turmoil about her enough that he reacted appropriately to the screaming argument Jason was having with Tony.

“Boys, boys, let’s just take a few steps back, have a sip or two,” Bruce said, sliding smoothly behind the bar and pulling out some fine, aged whiskey for himself and grabbing a bottle of Jason’s favorite microbrew from its secret place in the very back of his well-stocked bar cooler.

He splashed a double into each two low-ball glasses, and he grabbed a coke for Tim and expertly carried it out to the lounge area and started passing everything around.

That painful expression of surprise and pleasure and wariness crossed Jason’s face at seeing the label on his bottle, and Tony stared long and hard at his glass before swirling it once and sipping.

“I can’t believe your dead son is alive and you never told me,” Tony said suddenly.

Bruce felt Brucie slip away and wanted to reach for him with fingers grasping, but couldn’t muster the energy. Not after Talia. He set his whiskey aside.

“It was--”

“I tried to kill him,” Jason said coldly. “Not exactly something to write to the orphaned rich boys anonymous club about.”

“There’s a club?” Tim quipped, trying, no doubt, to salvage something of the situation. Jason hauled Tim bodily closer and his eyes, when they met Bruce’s over the top of Tim’s head, were glittering with challenge.

“Not for you. You can be an honorary member of the orphaned street-rats club instead, with me and Steph.”

Tim tried to catch Bruce’s gaze, but he grabbed his whiskey and stared intently at the amber liquid to avoid it.

“So,” Tony said. “He’s not _actually_ a drug dealer then?”

Bruce looked sharply at Jason, which was a mistake, because there was Tim and his too-perceptive gaze, and he scowled at the boys.

“Not anymore,” Bruce said.

Jason protested.

“Don’t even try to pretend, Jay,” he said tiredly. “If you think I don’t know every move you make in m-- in the city, well…”

“Whatever,” Jason mumbled.

Tony threw up his hands. “Brucie, you know your family is fucking weird, right?” he asked, just as Damian and Tony’s PA stepped off the elevator.

Natasha had a hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, and that surprised him more than anything. Dick was making a more subtle entrance from the back, and Jason was beating everyone to the punch and scooping a protesting Damian up off the floor to cling to.

“She didn’t… you’re okay,” Jason said in a low growl that carried nonetheless.

“Of course I am,” Damian said stiffly. “Batman saved us.”

“I freaking hate that lunatic,” Tony said, even as his PA was saying something about an all clear. SHe’d had a bug the whole time, Bruce realised.

The… whole… time. And he was a healthy adult male, and he’s _seen_ her in Talia’s bed, so of course his mind conjured images of…

And then Jason physically _tossed_ his son at him, and he had an armful of murderous ten-year-old to contend with, so much so that _he_ barely noticed Stark and his PA/bodyguard leaving.

***

Her next mission takes her away for almost three weeks, and when she’s finally through with cleanup, she ignores SHIELD and goes straight home.

“Welcome home, Natasha,” JARVIS said once she was in their elevator, and he let her out at the kitchen, where she could hear her team laughing and grumbling and… being _her_ team, and she was still wholly unprepared for the sight of Damian Wayne seated at their table, a plateful of pancakes (bear-shaped, she was sure. Steve insisted on it for all of them.) at his left and a tablet and Tony Stark at his right.

They were arguing some finer point of engineering, and Natasha smiled despite herself.

“Hello,” she said. Damian interrupted his diatribe (it was a mix of languages. French and Russian and English and Arabic all tossed into a blender that only one of them might be able to pick apart,) to stare at her. More overtly than he had in that first meeting. Less suspiciously too.

She smiled at him. “Are you an Avenger?” she asked him.

“No.” He scowled at her and stalked over to the fridge, poured himself orange juice, and she wondered if she’d been taking tips from Bucky in that regard, because he made the action almost as menacing as their quietest member did.

“Well,” she said, glancing around the room. “As long as you are happy.”

“I am-- will be Batman. But that does not preclude my learning from other mentors,” he said.

“What should _I_ call you, then?” she asked. Because she _would_ allow him his secret identitiy, even if there was no way her team, or most of them at least, hadn’t determined it.

“He’s been working on a couple of identities,” Clint offered. “Tony wanted him to be Nighthawk.”

Natasha raised a skeptical eyebrow. Clint put up his hands; “Not my idea! Plus, given the origins of the name, and current… matters,” a snort from Damian at that, “Bruce vetoed it.”

“I still like Raptor,” Bruce added mildly.

“Too generic,” Tony supplied.

“Wolf Spider?” Steve suggested.

“No,” she snapped out, and Bucky echoed her. That earned them _looks_ , but no one commented.

“What of Robin,” Natasha asked quietly.

Damian shrugged. “Robin is the Bat’s. I am… also the Bat’s, but I am an imperfect Robin.”

“Sparrow,” Bucky suggested. “Peregrine.”

“If you’re just going to shout bird names at the poor kid,” Steve said, waving his spatula in mock warning.

“What. You will. Name him America Jr.?” Bucky asked, focussing all of his attention on 

“Yeah, because that would go over _so_ well,” Tony said.

“Lieutenant America,” came Sam’s contribution. He’d just come from a workout, based on his attire and perspiration.

“I would literally pay you $100,000 to do that. Just so you know.”

Natasha snorted.

Steve poured some more batter into the hot skillet, frowning at his thumb when it came away covered in batter. Natasha darted in and licked it for him.

“Hot,” Tony remarked boredly. “But little pitchers have big… eyes.”

Damian scoffed.

Natasha wondered how long he’d been there, how long he’d stay, and decided it didn’t matter.

“How do you feel about Damian?” she asked.

The room went silent.

“That… would be acceptable,” he said, and when he caught her gaze, she held it. He could see, she knew. He would know from her that he was not alone, and that one could become a person where they had always been a weapon before. Bucky put an arm around her waist, and she thought, he would know from _all of them_.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out because I had a P!nk song on repeat and decided I just really, really wanted Natasha and Damian bonding.
> 
> It ended the way it did because I'm a sap and I don't see Damian ever learning to be happy while he's got all those legacies to live up to, and the Avengers are just way more relaxed and loving than the Bats, (you know, except when there is a crossover event on the table.) and Damian is probably only spending weekends there but he's still an honorary Avenger just because Nat said so in passing that one time while they were watching that movie after that weird fiasco in Gotham.


End file.
